


Anniversary

by BerityBaker



Series: Come What May [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Fluff, M/M, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerityBaker/pseuds/BerityBaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really wanted to write some post-apocalyptic Johnlock. Here's the result. It was really fun, and there may be more where this came from at some point, but for now, this little fic can stand on its own, I think. :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write some post-apocalyptic Johnlock. Here's the result. It was really fun, and there may be more where this came from at some point, but for now, this little fic can stand on its own, I think. :)

_“When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield.”_

When Mycroft had said that so long ago, John didn’t think he’d meant for it to be this literal.

It was a regular sight now—the bodies, the rubble. He was so used to it that he barely noticed anymore. It helped that Sherlock walked so quickly, weaving through piles of gore, paying them no mind in order to get to his destination unscathed.

What that destination was, John wasn’t sure. Sherlock had been very cryptic about where they were headed, but then, that was Sherlock.

Still, he was intensely curious.

“Sherlock where—”

He was cut off by a resounding _BOOM_ , and Sherlock shoved him down a vacant alleyway.

“Sherlock, what was—” he slammed his lips against John’s, forcing him to shut up.

After a few moments of silence, Sherlock peeked back around the corner. “Clear,” he murmured, and led John by the hand from the narrow space between the two crumbling buildings.

“Sherlock, what was that all about?”

“Sorry, John. But we’re headed into a war zone.”

John snorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, Sherlock, the whole country’s a war zone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, John,” Sherlock scoffed. John raised an eyebrow and Sherlock smirked. “The whole world’s a war zone.”

John grinned and rolled his eyes. “Come on then, where are we going?”

“We’re going back to Baker Street.”

“Baker Str—It’s _gone_ , Sherlock!”

“I know.”

“Then why are we—”

“Trust me.”

There were four more bomb scares on the way there, the last of which was a very close encounter which involved John tackling Sherlock, launching them both into a crudely-dug hole, and several minutes of climbing back out.

“Jesus, Sherlock. This better be worth it.”

“Trust me, it will be,” Sherlock replied, using his height to reach down and help John out of the hole.

John looked around as he stood on the cracked pavement. “This is it, isn’t it?” he said, more in acknowledgement than actual confusion.

“Two-two-one B, right over there,” Sherlock replied, pointing across what used to be the street. The building was just as they’d left it:  half the façade had fallen into the road behind them as they’d fled, Sherlock dragging along both John and Mrs. Hudson by the hands. That was also the day Sherlock had ditched the tailored suits in favor of more practical turtlenecks and cartridge belts. John hadn’t been able to bring himself to lose the homely jumpers and jeans.

“Let’s go,” Sherlock said, pulling his coat tighter around himself and starting across what was left of the road. Deep fractures in the asphalt, as well as the unavoidable clutter of rubble—thicker here than in most places—made John hesitate.

“Sherlock, are you sure—”

“ _Trust_ me, John! I know what I’m doing.”

“You bloody well do not,” John mumbled, finding his footing on a stable-looking chunk of brick and mortar so that he could hop the small sinkhole in his path. “Sherlock, what are we doing?”

“You’ll see!”

“But—”

“ _Spoilers_ , John!”

John finally joined Sherlock on the other side of the concrete rubbish pile, muttering angrily about the _Doctor Who_ DVDs that had been the only thing they could find to give him for Christmas last year.

“Since when have you cared about spoilers?”

Sherlock’s boot kicked away some rubble to reveal an undamaged patch of pavement, which he then dragged John over to before kissing him deeply.

John broke away. “Now hold on, Sherlock, what are we doing here?”

“Look where you’re standing.”

“What?”

“I know the surroundings are different, but concentrate. Where are you standing?”

“I don’t know, I—” He was cut off by Sherlock’s lips again, and it dawned on him. He looked up at him. “This is where you first kissed me.”

Sherlock nodded. “Happy anniversary, John.”

“It’s not our anniversary, we were married in the summer.”

“You think I remember the date of something as mundane as a wedding?”

“Then what’s today?”

“Two years ago today, I realized I was in love with you, and so I kissed you.”

“On this very spot,” John added, and Sherlock nodded. “You…you realized…” John broke into raucous, although breathless, laughter before grabbing Sherlock’s face and kissing him again.

As they made their way back over the rubble, hand in hand, John asked, “How exactly have you been keeping track of the date?”

Sherlock just chuckled.


End file.
